Runaway (18 page)

The buildings were crude, but not so ugly, she told herself. The land that bordered the town was beautiful as well, touched with green, with traces of wildflowers, even in winter. It was different, so different. But intriguing. It could be beautiful, if only …

If only she didn’t feel the fear. She told herself that fear wasn’t tangible, she couldn’t feel it. But she could. She could feel the fear in the little town of Tampa just as surely as she could feel the warmth of the sun as it touched down on her flesh.

Just as she suddenly felt Jarrett’s heat as he stood beside her. She tried not to blink, not to speak, not to betray herself more. What a fool. She shouldn’t have let him see her dismay in this place. He wouldn’t understand, she wouldn’t be able to make him understand.

Jarrett didn’t understand. Streaks of the anger she so quickly managed to ignite within his soul sizzled through him. She was appalled—and so far she’d only seen Tampa! He’d warned her, damn, but he had warned her!
And during the days of their voyage he had come to feel incredibly possessive regarding her—no, damn it, entwined with her. Now he was certain she was regretting her hasty marriage with a vengeance.

And they hadn’t even stepped ashore yet.

The intimacy they had shared aboard the ship seemed to melt away. The smoldering jealousy he had felt as well—and tried to deny—added fuel to the tension that was rising within him. It was almost as if he could feel a fire burning within his body. Nothing had changed about her. She was still beautiful. Very regal and elegant this morning. Her hair was swept up off her neck in a neat knot, her eyes were as rich and lustrous a blue, her delicate face seemed still more exquisite, perfect.

She wore one of Lisa’s gowns. Blue velvet with a fitted bodice and a chemise and underskirt in white lace. It cinched in tightly at her waist, flared fully at her hips. The bodice just exposed the alabaster rise of her breasts and the ivory length of her throat.

He suddenly wanted to rip it off her, shake the cool blue superiority from her eyes, and remind her that, though innocent in her fashion, she was just a tavern wench who had so seduced his curiosity—and hungers—that he had legally wed her as a way of coming to her aid. She wasn’t really his wife. Lisa had been his wife, in all ways that the word could mean. Though Lisa was dead, somehow she was still his
wife
.

No, he thought painfully. Tara was now his wife. He had made the commitment just as she had. And he had found that the heat of his desire for her rose anew each time his passion should have been sated. And still he knew nothing about her. And now, when he saw that trouble was savagely spreading its tentacles out over his precious land, he realized that more tempest than he had ever imagined was awaiting him and must be weathered.

Tara hated his Eden. And she hadn’t even stepped foot upon it yet.

“No, this is not where I live,” he told her, adding, “it’s much more barren where my house lies. This is like—London in comparison!”

If anything she went a shade paler. But her eyes were hard on his, narrowing at his tone. Her stare continued to condemn him, and for a moment he was sorry. Had he, in a matter of seconds, destroyed their chances here? Perhaps, he told himself wearily, he had already done so, admitting as well as demonstrating to her that he did have the ability to be a tyrant.

Then again, perhaps their pasts could not be left behind. Perhaps they had been doomed from the beginning.

She didn’t say a word. She continued to stare at the land.

Impatience—and perhaps a bit of shame—brought heated words quickly to his lips once again.

“I told you where I was taking you!” he reminded her harshly.

“Ah, Mrs. McKenzie!” Robert called, stepping cheerfully toward her from around Jarrett’s back. “Your first view of our beautiful Tampa Bay! See the water, Tara? The shade is like your eyes. The beaches are magnificent. Ignore the look of the buildings—Mrs. Conolly at the Bay Tavern makes the most wonderful meals, and she has big, clean rooms with beds that don’t rock in the waves!”

As Jarrett watched, his wife smiled. Robert, it seemed—most irritatingly—always had the ability to make her happier. Her lips curled into their perfect, full, rose-colored smile and Jarrett felt a tug within his soul once again.

Would she have been happy in this wilderness if Robert had brought her into it?

But what of Robert himself? His charm was quickly going to fail them all, for once they reached shore, there would be no way to hide the truth that Tampa was preparing hard for an attack.

They would soon discover why.

He squared his shoulders, swearing silently at himself. It didn’t matter. Tara hadn’t said anything, she hadn’t done anything. And they were here.

“It sounds—wonderful,” Tara murmured in response to Robert.

Truly impatient then, remembering that all his thoughts about his wife had been swept away in his concern about events since his absence, Jarrett stepped forward and took his wife’s arm. Robert would be doing so any second if he didn’t step in, Jarrett was certain.

He took hold of her more roughly than he had intended. She didn’t pull away, but he felt her stiffening beneath his touch.

“Let’s move, then, shall we?” he asked. Once again he sounded curt. He didn’t seem to be able to help himself.

He escorted her quickly down the plank that brought them to the dock. Even as they reached the shore, Nancy was rushing forward, Josh right behind her. Nancy threw herself into his arms, giving him a sound kiss on the lips, then quickly pulling back, holding him still, heedless of her huge husband lumbering behind her. “Oh, Jarrett, you cannot imagine how good it is that you are home! Perhaps you can do something where no one else can!”

“Nancy,” Josh protested, “you’re about to push him right back into the bay. Give the man some breathing space. And watch it, you’re stepping on the young lady you just shoved from his side.”

“Oh! Oh!” Nancy exclaimed. “I’m so dreadfully sorry!” she told Tara, but then she saw Robert and kissed him too. Jarrett couldn’t help but feel a slight tinge of pleasure at the quickly masked look of unease that had swept through Tara’s eyes at Nancy’s fond embrace.

“Nancy!” Robert said, picking up the slim, dark-haired young woman and spinning her around. “Whoops, there’s that bear of a husband of yours,” Robert said, and, laughing, put her down to shake Josh’s hand.

“Nancy and Josh Reynolds. They own a shop here,” Jarrett informed Tara. By then his crew were spilling off the ship behind them, while others of the townspeople were milling closer and closer around them.

Just beyond the crowd Jarrett could see that a military man was awaiting him as well. He recognized the golden locks and wide-brimmed hat of Captain Tyler Argosy, an old friend, and an army man to the core.

“What the hell has happened?” Jarrett demanded, expecting the answer from Josh Reynolds.

The big man inhaled deeply and sighed. “Hell has broken loose,” he said simply. “Jarrett, Major Dade was bringing some troops a hundred miles north of here to Fort King. He was ambushed by the Seminoles. There were three survivors. One hasn’t made it here, one can’t talk, and the third man has put the almighty fear into each and every one of us! We’re all getting prepared for an attack, every man armed and ready. Soon’s you get a chance, you might want to get to the base and have a few words with that poor battered soldier who crawled his way out of the ambush. The Indians did the killing, then some of their runaway Negroes moved in and scalped and mutilated the bodies. Well, Jarrett, you can imagine. Some of the Negro-Seminoles have been living with the Indians so long, they are Indians. Some of them
have been slaves to the Indians and earned their freedom. But most of them have been slaves to white men, and some whites are mighty hard on their slaves. I imagine that once the Seminoles had done the killing, some of their black brethren were mighty glad to go in and rip up the bodies of the dead men. Wiley Thompson, the Indian agent, met with his own end as well. They say that Osceola was the leader there—Osceola was good and angry with Wiley Thompson—hell, Jarrett—excuse me, ladies—”

“Go on, Josh!” Nancy urged him. “Jarrett has to know what has happened here.”

“Jarrett, most of us knew good and well that Osceola couldn’t endure what Wiley did to him. You don’t chain a Seminole, you just don’t do it, and if Wiley Thompson had used a lick of sense, he would have known it. The Indians caught up with Wiley just outside the fort and murdered him and a few others. It’s going to be real war now, Jarrett. No help for it. None at all.”

Jarrett was silent, feeling a burning anguish sweep through him.

“Dear God!” Tara whispered.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry,” Josh said. “I didn’t mean to be so blunt. Are you here to visit someone? Dear Lordy, I hope not one of those soldiers who was with Major Dade—”

“She’s not for any of those poor fellows,” Jarrett said wearily, interrupting Josh’s fervent spill of concern. “She’s my wife.”

“Wife!” Nancy gasped. Josh, startled as well, gave Nancy a firm glance. Nancy quickly gathered her wits about her. “Wife! Oh, and we’ve just scared the girl to death. Jarrett—you—you should have warned us. We could have welcomed her so much more—”

“Humanely!” Josh suggested.

“Oh, move now, you big bear, and let’s get her off the dock. Oh, this is terrible, Mrs.—McKenzie,” Nancy said, tripping over the name.

“Tara,” Jarrett suggested. “Her name is Tara.”

“Then let’s get her into the tavern before she passes out.”

Tara was white. Like a sheet. Her gaze fell upon his with pure rebellion. But she wasn’t going to pass out. Indeed, she looked as if she were ready to strangle him.

“You needn’t worry. Tara is made of strong stuff. She’s very good at eluding enemies. She won’t pass out,” Jarrett said firmly.

“Come, dear, anyway!” Nancy said, slipping an arm through Tara’s. “Such cruel news to hear just as you arrive! The tavern is ahead, down the street a spell, easily walked, if you can make it—”

“She can make it,” Jarrett said.

“She can also speak for herself,” Tara said, her eyes blue flames as they touched upon him. Her color was returning. He smiled grimly. She did know how to meet a challenge.

Tara started walking along with Nancy. Nancy began saying inane things about the weather. Jarrett turned back to see that their belongings were sent to the tavern for the night, and then he met Robert’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Jarrett,” he murmured. “We have seen it coming.”

Jarrett nodded. The wars, the killing, the hatreds, had been going on for years. The wars didn’t begin and end—it seemed that the times of peace did.

“Argosy is waiting for you,” Robert said, referring to the soldier in the wide-brimmed hat who stood just outside the crowd at the dock.

Jarrett nodded. “Take Tara on to Mrs. Conolly’s. I’ll be right along.”

He strode up the incline to where Tyler Argosy patiently
waited. He offered a hand to Jarrett, and Jarrett took it, clasping it firmly. “You’ve heard the news already, I imagine. It’s bad. There’s widespread panic inland. Plantations have been burned. The whites want all-out revenge. Total deportation to the western territories of all Florida Indians. Most people don’t want a single red man left behind.”

Jarrett paused, shaking his head. “We’re in for it, Tyler. You don’t know how tenacious the Seminoles are. They’ve been running a long time. We’ve lied, we’ve betrayed them. And they know this territory far better than we. They can fight it well with a third of our military numbers. It will be long, bloody, and fierce, I imagine.”

“The local militia is already on the move; we know there will be help from Washington,” Tyler told him. “But we need men like you. You know the swamps and the bogs and the hammocks. If you were to accept a commission and take up arms against some of the really bad factions—”

“Can’t do it, Tyler. Can’t do it. You know that I can’t,” Jarrett told him.

Tyler inhaled and exhaled, looking out to sea. “Well, I kind of knew that, but our own brand of chiefs wanted me to approach you quietly.”

“Ask me again when there is something that I can do. Don’t ask me to go to any of the chiefs with lies. But any honest negotiation that needs doing, I’ll be your man.”

Tyler nodded. “We’ll need you in the future. Not to wage war, but to talk.” He hesitated a minute. “There are plenty of white men who don’t understand your position. A lot of hostility could come your way now.”

“A lot of Indians probably hate me, too, Tyler. It doesn’t matter. I can only follow my own conscience on this.”

“No man can do more.”

“But, Jesu, I hate the killing. I’ll talk to anyone at any time, that I can promise you.”

Tyler nodded again. “You heading inland anyway?”

“I’ll be fine inland. My property is neutral territory.”

“Let’s pray it stays that way.”

“Osceola is an important war chief at the moment. If he’s calling the shots, I imagine my property will remain neutral. Besides, the men with me—red, black, and white—are all men of their word, and I’ve never broken any trust with the Indians.”

“You fought against the Red Sticks in the Creek War. As a mere lad.”

“Different time, different circumstances. The Red Sticks attacked close to my home. There are different alliances now. I’ve kept my friends and made my peace with my enemies.”

“You may be forced into battle again. This is going to be a hard time to straddle a fence.”

“It’s never easy to straddle a fence.”

Tyler shrugged and looked up to the sky. “Well, I guess I knew what you’d say. And I give you my word, I won’t be asking you to make any negotiations that aren’t honest.”

“I’ll be there for you,” Jarrett said.

“You bringing a wife home?” Tyler asked, indicating the party, which had now disappeared down the street toward Mrs. Conolly’s tavern.

“Yes.”

Tyler smiled. “Lots of ladies thought they were in line for that position, once time enough had passed. She’s a beauty,” Tyler told him. “A rare beauty! She might be nervous about the Indians, but then again, she might be in greater danger from a few rivals in these parts! Damn! Where did you find such an elegant creature?”